"Built it?" echoed Cora.
"Yes, indeed. You must come around in daylight and inspect it.
Poverty may not be a blessing, but it is a pace-setter."
Walter felt this was the very kind of a girl he had dreamed of. She might not be pretty, but when she tossed the bath robe out to him as he was virtually washed up at her door, tossed it out while she ran to get her own wraps to join him in the rescue, he felt instantly that this girl was a "find." Then, when she spoke of going to the Berkshires, he was further convinced, and now, when she told of building a bungalow—what an acquisition such a woman would be!
"Aren't you afraid in the bungalow—just you and your mother in this lonely place?" asked Cora, as they drew up to the territory that outlined a camping ground.
"Well we never have been afraid," replied Miss Robbins, "as I am pretty good with a revolver, but there seems to be some tramps around here lately. One visited us this morning before breakfast, and mother remarked he was not at all a pleasant sort of customer."
"We had something like a similar call," said Cora, "only the man didn't ring the bell—he crawled around the house."
"Mercy! Why didn't the boys chase him?"
"They did, but he was beyond chase when they arrived. That's the one thing uncertain about boys—their presence when one wants them," and Cora stepped out of the machine to allow Miss Robbins room to pass.
"There's a light in the window," remarked Jack, as he, too, alighted from the machine.
"And there's mother! Mother, come out a minute," called Miss Robbins.
"I want to——"